Let it try
by IwatchforScofields
Summary: Bits of Sara worrying about Michael's state after his return. Post S5.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This is for the Anon from Tumblr asking for a story of Sara worrying about Michael's weight. And for those reviewers who asked me to write more. Thank you for your encouragement, and pls remember I am new to this and I'm only learning :) There will be a couple more chapters to this.**

 **PS: English is not my native language. Sorry about mistakes.**

* * *

\- Do you like what you feel? – his voice was husky and half-whispered words tickled her ear, sending shivers down her neck. She was standing within his embrace with her hands under his shirt exploring the muscle under his olive skin. "Not really, - would have been an honest answer to this question, as she was still concerned about his weight, which he wasn't really gaining no matter how many weeks have passed since he was back and no matter how hard she tried her best in the kitchen with home cooked meals. She even started suspecting that he lost a couple more pounds recently.

\- Oh yeah, - she couldn't voice her concerns (not once again anyway), so she let her fingers continue their discrete journey. This was a true answer too, because she loved him and his body no matter what, the scars and missing toes, but she could literally count his ribs under her fingers.. She was just worried. Thinking of everything he had to go through made her heart clench with sorrow and worry about the impact it had on his body and soul. She didn't know much about it. Hell, she wanted to. But he was sharing only small bits at his own pace. She knew she couldn't push.

She kept telling herself she shouldn't worry so much about him. No matter how much (or little) he weighed, he was still strong physically and he had stamina (oh she would know), he didn't have any other alarming symptoms. Having a medical education was convenient in many ways, but sometimes she wished she could turn off the doctor mode around her family.

She tried to reason with herself: he eats small amounts of food, sometimes claims to have no appetite at all, so what? His system has readjusted after years of malnourishment and stress, that's it. She made him do all kinds of check ups back in the beginning, he was grumpy about it but complied, - he had a family and he needed to be at his best for them, so he agreed. Everything turned out relatively fine, he got a few prescriptions (vitamins and such) but the general picture was pretty good.

She and Mike took him out for dinners multiple times per week, to show him their favorite places and introduce him to their favorite foods. But Michael paid more attention to memorizing his wife and son's preferences instead of caring about what was on his plate. Sara took her time with her 3 course meals and encouraging everyone to try more desserts, dragging time and hoping that Michael would show more interest in gourmets but he didn't care much. And of course eventually (pretty soon) he figured out what she was trying to accomplish there and put an end to it. "I'm fine, Sara, remember how the Doctor said I'm fine? You were there." She had to bite her tongue because "But I have a feeling that you are not" suddenly seemed like a silly answer.

She considered the possibility of his losing weight being a symptom of a disease. Her fingers stilled on his chest. No, that was impossible. His bloodwork was fine and he didn't show any other signs like excessive thirst or anything. Diabetes. Huh. That would have been ironic.

\- Sara, are you examining me? –his voice broke her out of her reverie.

\- What? No. What?.. I'm not, - she felt a little embarrassed at being caught and smiled sweetly at him, putting her itchy hands around his back. – Just touching.

\- Trust me, I know the difference. As much as I love that little doctor-patient game of ours, when you do it like this it kind of takes the fun away.

This was the last thing she wanted.

\- Oh, sorry. I.. got a bit carried away, - she chuckled.

\- Is there something on your mind? – he looked at her with mild suspicion and she knew she needed to get him distracted from the subject, before he figured out what actually was on her mind. Good thing she had something ready and waiting since that morning.

\- I actually wanted to show you something, - she drew away from his embrace gingerly and stepped around him to retrieve something from the wardrobe. Coming back, she put an album into his hands.

\- What's this? – he asked, not daring to open it. The cover was plain blue and had no picture or title on it.

\- It's Mike's first pictures. From when he was born to approximately one year old. You know, that kind of baby book, where you mark the baby's milestones, like when he first smiled, when he got his first tooth.. the height and weight graphs… - she trailed off, suddenly flooded with emotions.

She knew this album would be a big treat for Michael and his reaction didn't disappoint. He was holding to it so tightly never tearing his eyes off the cover.

She smiled and stroked his cheek lovingly.

\- I wanted to show it to you for weeks now but couldn't find it in the boxes. You want to take a look?

Still speechless, Michael took a couple of steps to the bed and sat down, opening the album.

He took his time, inspecting every picture, reading every fact Sara had meticulously written down on the colorful pages. She used to find comfort and distraction in filling this book with bits of Mike's infant life. From time to time Micahel would ask a question, not looking away from the pages, running his fingers along the photographs. She was watching his face the whole time and she saw the tears glistening in his eyes. When he finally finished and closed the book, he looked up with a content smile (a proud one?) gracing his lips and she abruptly turned away pretending to shuffle some stuff inside the wardrobe, but she didn't do it fast enough for him not to notice that she was crying.

He got up dropping the album onto the bed and came to her, putting his hands on her shoulders and turning her to face him.

\- I'm just .. so mad. So mad this was taken from you, from us, - she hid her face in his chest and let him hold her. Thinking about the time that was stolen from them in the most cruel and senseless way brought too much anger and sorrow. She tried her best to avoid these thoughts, but of course they were coming back way more often than any of them wished.

God, was he mad too. It's been weeks, months even, since Michael was back but it seemed like he kept finding a new reason to punch Poseidon in the face on a regular basis. Like that wine collection right in the living room. Two dozens of bottles. Seriously? He got rid of them at the first opportunity (that is as soon as Sara left the house. She didn't comment.) He had yet to ask her how he had treated her in the every day life, but didn't have the guts yet. That bruise on her cheekbone on the day he found her kind of spoke volumes, among other things.

She was sobbing quietly in his arms and he tried to concentrate on positive and distract her.

\- I'm here now, okay? It's what matters. We have all the time in the world, - he started stroking her hair lightly. After another minute of silence she asked quietly:

\- Yeah, but what if.. what if the darkness will find us? Find us again like it did so many times in the past.

He didn't like this talk. Didn't like it at all.

\- Let it try, - he said firmly. And he meant it.

She looked up and he took the chance to kiss her.

\- Now.. You wanna examine me some more? – He unwrapped his arms from her and pulled his shirt off (in that funny way that men do).


	2. Chapter 2

She drops the car keys in her handbag and walks up the driveway in a hurried pace. It's not that she's panicking, - there could be a lot of reasons why Michael wasn't picking up his phone, or the landline, really. She just wants to find them asap, make sure everything's fine and give them each a kiss. She decides to check the backyard first because it's the place from where one can't hear the phone ringing inside the house, and instantly hears Mike's voice, before even rounding the corner. She silently thanks herself for not giving in to her anxiety and not running around looking for them like some neurotic. Although who could blame her if she did? She slows her pace a little more and reaches the backyard finally spotting them both sitting in the middle of it, surrounded by some wooden planks and tools, papers, and what not. She can't help the relieved and happy smile spreading across her face.

\- Mom! – Mike is the first to notice her and he crosses the distance separating them in long jumps and flings himself at her. She hugs him tight and kisses his head:

\- Hi, baby.

Michael is smiling at her from his position in the grass between a heap of wooden planks and tools scattered around.

\- What are you, guys, doing? – she asks them curiously and bends to give Michael a kiss on his smiling lips and lets him know: - I was trying to reach you since lunchtime.

His smile falters a bit, and she can see a shade of guilt on his face:

\- I'm sorry, we got engaged with this stuff here.. And I forgot about the phone. Sorry, - he repeats the heartfelt apology for making her worry and runs a hand along her hip.

\- Yeah, we're building a doghouse, mom! – Mike drops back onto the grass beside his father and grabs a paper with their project sketched on it to show her excitedly.

\- A doghouse? – Sara is a little confused. They didn't have a dog. And they haven't discussed a possibility of adopting/buying one. She looks at Michael questioningly but Mike is the first to answer:

\- I know, we don't have a dog, but a doghouse is a cool thing to build. It's not too big and not too small, and it's useful, so we're not just wasting building material.

Something tells her these were Michaels' words, their son just reciting them to her. She looks at Michael and there he is, smiling sweetly at her:

\- Right, sweetheart, it's an interesting project to work on, Mike wanted us to build something using wooden planks and a doghouse is a perfect thing to practice.

\- Mhm, - Sara nods comprehendingly, - I can understand that, and how is a doghouse useful in the household that doesn't actually have a dog, remind me?

\- Well, uh, - Michael exchanges a look with his son. – It's not really useful at the moment, but it will become handy when, I mean if we decide to get a dog. Some day. After we talk about it. And discuss it with you, of course.

\- Uh-huh, - Sara can't help but laugh a little, turning her head away from them. They were adorable, teaming up together like that. She feels like giving in right away and saying "Alright, let's get a dog, tomorrow! Or right now." Anything they want, really. But right in the moment when she opens her mouth to speak, Michael sneezes loudly, twice, and she looks at him, asking instead:

\- Are you okay?

\- Yeah, sorry. I'm fine. Maybe we should take a break and have a drink or a snack on the patio, together? – he starts gathering the scattered tools.

\- You sure you don't want to go inside? – she asks.

He insists on staying outside and she goes into the house, dropping the handbag on the small table by the door, changes quickly and arranges a snack of small sandwiches and lemonade with Mike's help.

* * *

By the time evening rolls on, Michael is sneezing every 5 minutes and upon putting her small hand on his forehead and looking into his tired watery eyes she pronounces him sick and commands:

\- You go lie down right now, and I will make you something hot to drink.

She half expects him to put up resistance and insist on finishing Mike's homework check up, but he complies with an obedient "Okay" and disappears in the bedroom. She watches him with a surprised but satisfied look.

When the hot ginger root tea is ready, she brings it into the dusky room where he lies awake but with his eyes closed heavily. When she enters and deposits the cup onto his bedside cabinet he opens one eye tiredly and thanks her.

She sits down beside him on the bed and massages his chest lightly.

\- I was kind of surprised when you actually got up and went to bed right away, - she smiles timidly.

He opens his eyes at that and catches her hand in his slowly.

\- Sara, - he pauses for a bit. – For seven years, when I wasn't.. when I was sick or hurt, or feeling lost.. I dreamt of you being there, taking me away, curing me, taking care of me. It has been my most sacred wish. So.. Right now I am not gonna put up a fight, I am going to let you take care of me, because it's what I want the most, right now. Or any other time, to be honest.

She squeezed his hand and gets up to kiss the side of his face, once, twice, multiple times.

\- I will take care of you. Don't you worry, - she tries to subside a sob, but to no avail. - Because it's what I want the most.

After finishing up the dishes and walking Mike through his evening routine, having tucked him in bed and changing into her Pjs, she finally slides into bed next to Michael's feverishly warm body. The medicine she gave him about an hour ago has started to kick in, but his sleep is still not deep enough to keep him oblivious to her presence beside him. He drapes a hand around her shoulder without opening his eyes.

The 'How are you feeling" question will have to wait till the morning because she knows how he is feeling – sick and hot and tired. She nestles into his arm and closes her eyes, laying a hand on his heaving chest. Sleep almost claims her a few minutes later, when Michael's raspy voice whispers into her ear:

\- Sara?

She opens her eyes and slides her hand along his chest letting him know she's awake. The darkness is cozy and sticky and warm.

\- We should have a getaway weekend. The three of us. Camping somewhere nice. You know, rent a trailer. Or a camping tent. Just us and the nature. Get away from here.

His voice was trailing away but she caught every word. Get away from here. The phrase alarmed her and she put it away in her head to bring up later. It was something to talk about, but not now, not in this feverish daze.

\- Yeah, we should, - she strokes his chest reassuringly. – Mike's going to love it. But first you need to get well.

She places a kiss on his skin under her cheek and he sighs, giving in to the slumber.


End file.
